


History

by grim_lupine



Category: Mean Girls (2004)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Light Dom/sub, sort of hate sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:13:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grim_lupine/pseuds/grim_lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Shut up and do something better with your mouth,” Janis says hoarsely, and has the distinct, shocking pleasure of watching Regina George do as she’s told.</p>
            </blockquote>





	History

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the porn battle; prompt: Janis/Regina, sarcasm

-

\--

“I’m sorry to tell you, Regina, but I think you’re a lesbian,” Janis says coolly as Regina yanks down Janis’s jeans the rest of the way, and eases down the bed way too gracefully for someone who’s about to eat another girl out (as well as eating her words, if Janis has her way).

Regina rolls her eyes. “Please,” she says, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Can’t we drop all this history? I mean, that was _middle_ school. _Bo_ ring.”

_Boring_. This is Janis’s failing, and Regina’s greatest insight: even when she hated Regina the most, she’d rather have been snarled at than ignored; to be _boring_ to Regina George is unthinkable. Janis _hates_ it, that she still wants Regina’s attention so desperately, even if that desire manifests itself differently now; she hates it, but it is what it is, and—Regina doesn’t need to be here, in Janis’s bedroom on a Friday night, not the girl who got hit by a bus and built herself back up with her teeth and her claws and her determination. Regina could be anywhere she wanted, and she’s here. That _means_ something.

“Shut up and do something better with your mouth,” Janis says hoarsely, and has the distinct, shocking pleasure of watching Regina George do as she’s told.

She’s not hesitant, but not completely practiced, either; not clumsy, but careful. Janis props herself up on her elbows and watches Regina’s ducked head, spill of hair, feels her pulse pound slickly in her cunt as Regina spears her open with her liar’s tongue and licks up the evidence of her arousal.

At some point, Janis realizes, Regina’s carefulness has turned into a deliberate tease, meant to get under Janis’s skin. She’s not surprised—as if anything between them could be less than a challenge, a goad, a battle. Not anymore.

“Besides,” Regina says, stopping to come up for air and blinking slyly up at Janis, and Janis bites her lip _hard_ to keep from crying out at the loss. She also just about manages to talk herself out of kicking Regina in the head to make her keep going. “Maybe you _turned_ me into a lesbian. Did you ever consider that?”

Janis snarls, wordless rage that’s only compounded by the fact that she can still see the slick all over Regina’s stupid mouth from Janis’s _cunt_ , and Regina _still_ won’t _shut up_.

“You could take that as a compliment,” Regina says helpfully, smirking. Her hands are still pushing Janis’s thighs open, thumbs stroking in teasing lines.

Wouldn’t it turn out, the only thing Janis wants to do more than hit Regina George in the face is to shove that pretty face of hers between Janis’s legs.

So she does.

“Stop _fucking around_ ,” Janis says tightly, puts her hands in Regina’s long blonde hair, manifestation of her stupid fucking vanity, and _pulls_ her head down. She doesn’t know what she’s expecting; more sarcasm, maybe. For Regina to pull back, bite her in retaliation, something.

She doesn’t expect Regina to make a noise in the back of her throat, a little shocked; she doesn’t expect Regina to follow Janis’s grip like she has her by the strings, to bury her face between Janis’s thighs with none of the control she’d shown before, all of the hunger.

From there, Regina regroups almost immediately, goes back to those teasing flicks of her tongue that aren’t enough, evidently trying to draw the same kind of caught-off-guard reaction out of Janis that Janis had surprised from Regina; or distract her, at the least.

But it’s too late; Janis thinks _oh_ , mind swimming in shock, and slowly tightens her hands in Regina’s hair.

Janis Ian is far from stupid.

For all that their school’s repaired itself a little, rearranged its social circles, this is still the kind of currency she could get miles out of.

It’s lucky for Regina that Janis can think of much better things to do with this.

“Harder,” Janis says clearly, directly. “You know that’s not enough.” When Regina doesn’t move at first, she yanks Regina’s hair, hard enough to make it sting.

Regina’s lips part around a muffled moan, and close again around Janis’s clit, sucking harder this time. Janis tells her when to flatten her tongue, when to use her fingers, when to sink two into Janis, when to go _faster_ and when to give more; she tells Regina what to do, with her hand in Regina’s hair, until she’s come twice and her legs are shaking, thighs wet.

Finally, she lets go.

“You—” Regina says, lifting away and swallowing the rest of her sentence, cold and furious and clearly, desperately turned on; her mouth is lush and wet, her hair in disarray, and she’s as off-balance as Janis has seen her in years, but still: within seconds Janis sees her shake her hair back into place, gathering her dignity like a queen adjusting her crown, and Janis thinks, _Fucking Regina George_ , in something like unwilling admiration. You can say a lot of things about Regina, but you can’t say she isn’t capable of dealing with anything.

Bizarrely, Janis looks at her and thinks about that time Regina had the flu when they were twelve and she threw up in the bathroom at school, just the two of them in there. She’d glared at Janis with the same furious pride she has on her face now, but she let Janis hold her hair back and put a hand on the back of her neck; later, Janis found a bag of Jolly Ranchers in her locker, as well as the miraculous return of her Tinkerbell watch that Regina told her she must have lost three months before.

She’s such a _bitch_. She’s made Janis cry, those ugly, gasping tears that leave you sick and feeling feverish; she made Janis so angry at times she thought her head would split; she’s invaded Janis’s head when she’s bringing herself off in the shower, or at night in her bed, and she hasn’t _left_.

Regina was Janis’s best friend and she screwed her over; but today, when she followed Janis home and they ran into Janis’s mother on her way out, Regina—who is never, never at a loss for words—ducked her head and wouldn’t meet her eyes; looked, for a moment, as if she was regretful.

Janis and Regina hate each other, maybe, because there is no word for two people who have too much history to ever fall out of each other’s orbits; and there are things they can use against each other and things they cannot, and Janis knows which one of those this is.

“Don’t be a moron,” she says, pitching her voice sharp and goading, a tone that is guaranteed to make Regina pull out the composure and lose the defensiveness, build back the arrogance in her eyes. “You want your fucking turn or not?”

Regina says nothing, for a beat, before she tosses her head (yes, yes, her fucking _hair_ , Janis _gets_ it already) and says, “If you think you’ll be any good at it.”

Janis smiles. It’s not a nice smile; but then, neither of them really wants nice.

“Try not to scream down the house,” she says, and pushes Regina onto her back to make sure she does just that.

\--

-


End file.
